Yellow Submarine
by Le'letha
Summary: Tom, Neelix, Harry, and B'Elanna get stuck on the holodeck because of a computer virus. Tom has been listening to 20th century music and B'Elanna gets to hit people with stuff. This story is not my fault. Now complete!
1. To Plan A Party

_**Yellow Submarine**_

_**Le'letha**_

**Surgeon General's Warning:** This song is scientifically proven to be annoying and addictive. Le'letha is not responsible for any headaches gained by the lyrics running around incessantly in the reader's head. Also, it's stuck in hers, so she feels your pain.

**Disclaimer:** What would happen if I lied and said I owned Voyager? Would my laptop explode? Hmmmm. I won't take the risk. However, I _don't_ own the song "We All Live In A Yellow Submarine." Thank god.

**Guess What? **I'm posting as soon as I finish a chapter, never mind what I said before. I'm, um, experimenting. Seeing which style works best. Yeah, that sounds plausible…

**Feedback:** Of course. Reviews are good, unless they're flames. They fluff my ego, and I save them all. I appreciate ego-fluffing as long as it's mine.

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**Chapter One: To Plan A Party **

When you're thousands of light-years from home, with a thirty-five year ETA, it's inevitable that your crew will find some way to relax and goof off. The crew of the _Starship Voyager, _NCC-74656, intrepid (and accidental) Starfleet explorer of the Delta Quadrant, was no exception.

Earlier that week, Neelix had brought up the subject at a morning briefing.

"Mr. Neelix, any input this morning?" Captain Janeway had asked.

"And don't talk about _leola_-root," Tom Paris muttered under his breath.

"I wasn't planning to," the Talaxian cook-morale officer-ambassador to the Delta Quadrant huffed. "Except now that you mention it, _someone_ has hidden what was left of my stores."

The senior staff, seated around the table, without exception, looked straight at Tom Paris and Harry Kim. Tom was a known prankster, and he usually dragged his best friend Harry along for the ride.

"Who, me?" Tom asked, the picture of innocence. "Why does everybody always blame me?"

"Because it's usually your fault," B'Elanna told him bluntly, smirking.

"Not always!"

"But it probably is this time; you hate _leola_-root."

"So do you."

"Neelix, I promise it wasn't us," Harry assured him. "At least, it wasn't _me_, you'll have to ask Tom if it was him."

"Tom?" First Officer Chakotay asked.

"Nope, not me. Sorry, Neelix, you'll have to look elsewhere."

"Now that that's resolved," the captain broke in, "Mr. Neelix, continue your report. Morale status of the crew?"

"Well, after that last fight with the Borg, the crew has been a little stressed. They seem to be having trouble winding down from that last incident."

No one looked at Seven of Nine; she had been partially, if indirectly, responsible for that 'incident.'

"What do you recommend?"

"We could have a sort of party on the holodeck. Not for any specific reason, just to give everybody a chance to relax. I volunteer to program the setting, if anyone else wants to help."

"That sounds like a good idea," Chakotay mused. "We haven't had a shipwide gathering like that since, um,"

"I can't remember either," Neelix confirmed.

"I'll help," Paris volunteered. "And I won't sabotage it, either."

"Then consider yourself given permission to begin organizing it," Captain Janeway stated. She smiled suddenly. "And do tell us when it is. I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with already."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Tom Paris and Neelix hadn't started off too well originally; they'd actually gotten into a physical fight once (with pasta!). Even though they got along better now, they still didn't always agree. And their tastes in recreation were definitely different.

"Beach party!" Tom reiterated stubbornly.

"No!"

"Ok, let's hear your suggestion, Mr. Morale Officer."

"I don't know! I've said I don't know! But I don't want to do a beach party!"

"You've done luaus before! What's wrong with a beach?"

Neelix sighed heavily and stared around the empty, nondescript holodeck. Although right now it was just an empty room with geometric patterns on the walls, it had the potential to be so much! But he couldn't think of anything.

"If anyone complains, it is All Your Fault."

"My fault? Neelix, buddy," Tom Paris was a master of flattery when he wasn't acting like a showoff or an idiot, "no one is going to complain. The crew loved your luau."

Neelix gave himself a few moments to preen his ego, then turned to the holodeck computer.

"Computer!"

_Bleep_.

"Show me a beach."

The ship's computer chirped happily. "There are over one million seven hundred thousand representations of a landscape responding to the search category of 'beach.' Please refine your search parameters."

Neelix sighed as Tom Paris giggled to himself.

"Computer," Tom intervened, mastering his giggles, "show us a Terran beach," um, "North American continent," er, "Old United States state of California, circa 1960."

The computer hummed to itself as it processed his request. Within a few seconds the room metamorphosized into a seashore. The holodeck's technology was so advanced that they could even smell the salt in the ocean water.

"What do you think, Neelix? Swim party? I bet I can find some music to play, too. You can handle the food."

"Food! You mean more fun recipes I can alter?"

Tom winced. "No. Do not experiment with, alter, or otherwise affect the food. This is _fun_; a taste of home- we do not need _leola_ in the chips and dip!"

"Chips and dip?"

That was not a good smirk on Tom's face. "Chips and dip and fruit and crackers and fruit punch. The twentieth century had some great food. And better music."

"Music?"

"Don't worry, I'll handle that."

Not a good smirk at all.

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**Author's Notes: **Ok, short little intro chapter! It will get funnier later… As soon as Tom finds some 'fun music.' You know the wonderful thing about Voyager and her computer? When something goes wrong, it's BIG wrong… Especially with the computer.

Also, I'll update whenever I finish a chapter, but I write faster with reviews… Life's Little Laws #153: Apply hints with sledgehammers.


	2. BioGoop and a Hyperspanner

_**Yellow Submarine**_

_**Le'letha**_

**From Le'letha: **Thank you to Hasty, BOC42, Jgston, and emilychristinad; your reviews absolutely made my day!

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**Chapter Two: Bio-Goop And A Hyperspanner **

The computer core, probably the most important place on _Voyager_, was acting strange. Again.

Wedged beneath a fried console, B'Elanna tested the limits of her vocabulary. "Stupid bio-technology, give me a nice normal Maquis ship with plain old normal wiring any day! Why can't something ever go right with this ship!

"You okay under there, Maquis?" Harry called cautiously.

"Say what? can't hear you?"

"I asked if you were oka-ow!"

B'Elanna's spare hyperspanner rattled against the sturdy duranium floor after colliding with Kim's arm, bouncing into yet another puddle of sickly blue biogel.

"What did you do that for!"

"Are you stupid? Do I look okay? Here I am up to my elbows in biogel, and you ask me if I am OKAY?" she exploded.

She tried to sit up to look him in the eye, banged her head on the console, and swore fluently.

"Well then why did you ask me to repeat it if you heard me the first time?" Harry asked to distract her.

"I hadn't gotten a proper fix on your voice yet. And fetch me my hyperspanner back, I need it."

"Don't throw it at me then," Kim complained under his breath, and went to fetch the hyperspanner, with the half-Klingon's "I heard that!" echoing around the room.

Harry grimaced as he fished the hyperspanner out of the blue goop and looked around for something to wipe it off with. Unfortunately, all he could find was his sleeve, but since it was already soaked, like the rest of his yellow-and-black uniform, it didn't get much cleaner, or any less sticky. "Yuck."

"I hate this stuff!" B'Elanna started anew.

"Biogel runs the ship," Harry tried.

"Right now the stuff's _over-_running the ship!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You want your spanner back or not?"

B'Elanna gestured imperiously with one hand. "Give me my spanner or else!"

He handed it to her patiently and sat down at an interface console. "Ready to try the partial restart?"

"No, but go ahead anyway. Let me just get out from under here."

She inched out from underneath and pulled herself stickily to her feet.

"Harry, what did you do to this!"

The ensign looked up from the computer screen. "Huh?"

B'Elanna was shaking her hand up and down in utter puzzlement. Her wrinkled Klingon brow creased even further as she stared at her hand. There was a hyperspanner stuck to it.

Harry cracked up, laughing near-hysterically until she whacked him with it. Luckily for him, the impact caused it to fly off her sticky hand before she could belt him another one. He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, attempting to recover his dignity, and failed miserably when he discovered something new, if not altogether revolutionary; biogel hurts when it gets in your eyes.

"Ow!"

"Idiot."

"Gee, thanks, Maquis. You need a shower."

"If this doesn't work I'm going to need a _bat'leth._"

"You need a shower more. And the last time you got your hands on one of those freakish swords you destroyed half the Doctor's projection system," Harry observed as he pressed buttons rapidly. The computer core whirred and hummed as it rewrote a troublesome chunk of programming.

"He deserved it! He locked me in sickbay!"

"Yeah, and it took you a week and a half to fix."

The doors _whoosh_ed open.

"Building boats yet?"

"Captain! Er, boats?"

Captain Janeway picked her way between the omnipresent puddles of softly glowing blue gel, managing to ignore the troublesome spanner, which was now stuck to a bulkhead. "Never mind. Any progress?"

"Yes, Captain; we've reprogrammed the faulty data, but it's going to be a while before we know for sure."

"How long?"

Kim didn't need to consult the readout; he knew it off the top of his head. "Three and a half hours, tops."

"Good work. We don't want Tom and Neelix's party going wrong."

"Is that today? I thought it was two days from now."

"It is, but they're test running it now."

"If you go over there, can you ask them to leave it running until I get there?" B'Elanna asked. "I'd like to look over the programming, make sure it's not going to conflict with anything."

"Actually, I was on my way up there right now. I'll tell them."

"Thanks, Captain. I think I need to take a shower before I swing by; I smell of bio-goop and I swear I'm glowing blue."

"You're not glowing; the biogel is," Kim assured her.

"Shut up, Starfleet; I know that."

"Um, Lieutenant? Ensign? I give up. Why is there a hyperspanner stuck to the wall?" the captain asked on her way out. "Wait, don't answer that. I can guess. I wonder if we have a hose on board…you're going to need it."

_Whoosh, _went the doors, closing behind her. Thankfully, she managed to hold in her laughter until she reached the safety of the turbolift. _Who needs a party? We could just frame poor B'Elanna and Harry._

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO **

B'Elanna wailed pathetically, not seeing Kim's amusement at her vocalizations. "This stuff is _disgusting!_"

"Get out of here, B'Elanna. I'll finish up. Out! Before I throw you out!"

"You can't do that! I outrank you!"

"Yeah, well, it'd be worth it."

Torres ignored that, drawing herself up dignifiedly, still dripping biogel. "With the authority my rank of Lieutenant vests in me, I declare myself off duty and give myself a direct order to take a sonic shower. So there," she added, completely ruining the pseudo-dignity of the moment.

"You want me to site-to-site transport you there? It'll save us mopping the corridors as well."

"Yeah. Thanks, Harry."

"No problem," he replied, bringing up the transporter program on his (sticky, like EVERYTHING ELSE) console. "Energizing…"

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**From Le'letha: **I love biogel; it's blue and goopy and messes things up easily. Who wants to guess what's going to happen with the transporters…depending on what you say B'Elanna may be in for it… or not! Review, as always… Ok. flexes fingers Chapter 3…


	3. How Not To Play Music

**Review Corner:**

_Emilychristinad:_ hiya, having a good summer? What's your story called again?

_Aseawen:_ Your new story, _From Home,_ I saw and read and liked! Thought I recognized your name!

_Starbuck223:_ Drastically wrong starts now! With music!

_Erdocter15:_ Continuing as requested.

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**Chapter Three: How Not To Play Music**

Tom hummed happily to himself as he lugged his imitation radio down _Voyager_'s corridors. It had taken him a week and a half of replicator credits, but it had been worth it. As there was no way what-so-_ever_ for the _Voyager_s to get any reception at all in the Delta Quadrant, he had surreptitiously 'improved' on the technology…meaning, in layman's terms, it was linked to the ship's computer. Unfortunately, Tom had a passion for the 20th Earth century, and had stayed up late two nights in a row slogging through (and listening to) the entire computer complement of twentieth-century Terran music, or most of it.

Luckily, the crew was pretty much used to everyone's eccentricities by now, and so the ship's Alpha shift pilot walking down the hallways, singing to himself, lugging a enormous contraption that looked like it had been dug out of a museum…was frighteningly normal.

"Hi, Tom," Ensign Ryson said casually as they passed. "What's that thing supposed to do?"

"Play music!" he replied cheerfully, and resumed singing quietly. "_And we liiiiived beneath the waaaaaves In our ye-ellow sub-marine…" _he caterwauled under his breath. He couldn't for the life of him get the music out of his head. _Only one solution, _he thought over the incessant music, _to having a song stuck in your head. Get it stuck in everyone else's head too!_

_Look out, party._

Even though it was normal for Tom Paris to be doing something odd, it was still endlessly fascinating to find out exactly what he was doing now. In fact, it was one of Naomi Wildman's primary entertainments- besides kadis-kot and 'Adventures of Flotter' holodeck programs and helping Uncle Neelix in the galley- anyway, the list goes on.

"Wow," was her first comment upon rounding a corner and seeing Tom in his special off-duty outfit. "That's a pretty colorful shirt!"

He grinned at her. "Like it?"

"Yep. Well, sort of. What _is_ it?"

She wasn't quite sure why he sighed so heavily, muttering under his breath, "By the laws of probability, someone on this ship has to know something about twentieth century Earth! It's from the state of Hawai'i," he added, louder. "I found it for the beach party we've been planning."

"Uncle Neelix told me about it," she said sagely. "Is he going to wear a colorful shirt too?"

"I'll suggest it to him. Oof!"

"Oof?"

"The radio. I probably shouldn't have stuck so close to the original schematics- should have made it lighter."

"Are you taking it to the holodeck?"

"Yeah, I know, not that far. In fact, it's only a couple steps away." He picked up the fallen radio carefully. "I guess you're coming?'

"To your party? Of course. Mom's helping me find a swimsuit."

Tom laughed, and entered the holodeck, doors swooshing obediently open for him and his radio. Naomi stared at the closed doors for a few seconds, still trying to process that _shirt!_ She hadn't seen anything more colorful since, well, she'd tried to reprogram the lights in her bedroom to flash different colors whenever somebody sneezed. Unfortunately, it had worked, and the programming had taken with a vengeance. Was it her fault Neelix _and_ her mother had both had a cold The Doctor couldn't get rid of that week? Of course not.

Tom found Neelix in the already activated program, looking annoyed. It actually made for quite a picture, as he was lounging in a beach chair with his arms folded, scowling. The incongruity of Neelix in a beach chair and a – was that tam-o'-shanter? forced a stifled giggle from Tom.

"Uh, Neelix," he said cautiously, "where did you get that hat?"'

"It's to keep off the sun," he said brusquely, "and the holodeck is playing jokes on me."

"So reprogram it."

"Would you be so kind as to tell me _how_ I tell the computer to change something so specific?"

Tom sighed. "What's the problem? Is it important?" he sat down on an adjoining lounge chair, and fell to earth- grainy, damp sand- with a thud and a squawk.

"The chairs are insubstantial," said Neelix, trying to talk through his tam-o'-shanter, which had fallen over most of his head. "And this hat is too big."

"Yeah, I'd noticed."

"Maybe the computer has a smaller size in its memory. But I was so sure that this was the only one it knew about…"

Paris ignored Neelix's ramblings and pulled himself to his feet, brushing sand from his swim trunks. He looked around with pride at their scenario they'd spent days on. It hadn't turned out all that bad- except for the lounge chairs.

The main focus of the program, was, of course, a panoramic seascape involving palm trees, prodigious amounts of white sand, and the 'deep blue sea,' which was more of a turquoise-navy-white sunlight-light blue, now that he thought about it, which he didn't intend to do for long. It looked like the ocean though, which was kind of the point. It quite strongly resembled a beach he'd gone to one summer with his mother and three older sisters. He'd only been about seven at the time, and could not understand why girls didn't like cold salt water and seaweed, even when they'd been lying out in the sun for a good half-hour doing _nothing at all. _

The older Tom, of course, was much wiser…er, more informed- _wiser_ is debatable.

They had also programmed in a beach volleyball court, with extra volleyballs, as volleyballs tended to drift off in the waves, or get stuck in trees, or get requisitioned as chairs, or squashed flat, or any other of the varied and variable fates that can befall a holographic beach ball.

As of yet, of course, there were no snacks, drinks, or other forms of refreshment readily available for the obvious reason that the party wasn't supposed to start for another two days, and holodecks made second- to third-class refrigerators and storage devices.

"Computer, arch," Tom called, and a silvery metallic arch shimmered into being in the middle of the ocean. Pristine blue waves lapped against the computer console embedded in the wall.

"Computer!" Tom wailed. "Move the arch closer to my current position."

"Unable to comply. Arch is currently in use."

"What! No it's not!"

"Processing."

"Processing what?"

"Warning."

"What warning?"

"Warning. Parties currently entering holodeck."

Tom gave the invisible ceiling a strange look. If he didn't know any better, he'd suspect the computer of trying to make a joke.

The swoosh of the holodeck doors opening was almost totally masked in the ebb and flow and crash of the ocean waves. A clean and much happier B'Elanna Torres jumped back in surprise as holographic seawater lapped against an invisible barrier just inches from her toes. Cautiously, she stuck her head around the corner, staying mostly behind solid bulkheads.

"Tom? What did you do to this door? And why are you staring at the sky? And what in _hell_ is Neelix wearing?"

"The computer is making _puns._ What did _you_ do to _it?_ And the door is not my fault. Talk to your computer. As for Neelix's hat-" he looked over his shoulder at the Talaxian, who was still trying to dig himself out from underneath the oversized tam-o'-shanter and not in the least succeeding. "That's not anything to do with me."

"Nothing's ever your fault, is it?"

"You said it, sister!"

B'Elanna scowled at him and pulled her head back into the corridor to make a few modifications from outside. When she looked back, the entry was safe on solid ground, or at least slide-able sand. She marched through it and went to help Neelix with his hat, thumping Tom over the head with her fist on the way.

"What was that for?"

"Calling me 'sister.' And for bollixing up a simple program enough to make the door do that." She hauled the tam-o'-shanter off Neelix's head in one fell swoop. "So there is someone under there. That hat is too big for you, Neelix."

"It keeps the sun off well," he replied cheerfully, unmuffled by fabric.

"I'm sure."

"Hey, B'Elanna, how do I tell the computer to make the lounge chairs substantial?"

"Tell it. Exactly how you told me. When was the last time you programmed a holodeck?"

"This morning!"

The last part of his exclamation was blocked out by the computer's voice from on high, extremely magnified and enhanced. It sounded like the voice of some all powerful and almighty deity that couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

_In the towwwwwwn where I was booooooorn  
Lived a maaaaaaan who sailed to seeeeeeeea_

Neelix yelped in surprise and acoustic pain, tried to jump to his feet, and tripped over the chair he was sitting in while still sitting down; quite a feat of acrobatics if anyone had been bothered to watch.

_  
And he toooooold us of his liiiiiiife  
In the la-a-and of submariiiiiines _

So we saaaaaailed up to the suuuuuun-

"Computer!" Tom bellowed. "Turn off the music!"

"Unable to comply," the computer interrupted itself to say smugly. "Verbal holodeck commands are no longer accepted by this system."

Paris told the computer exactly what it could do with that statement. It happily responded, "Null command," and continued singing.

_Till we found the sea of green  
And we lived beneath the waves  
In our yellow submarine_

"Computer, end program," Torres snapped, trying to plug both ears at the same time. The computer ignored her too and launched into the chorus with fervor.

_We all live in our yellow submarine,  
Yellow submarine, yellow submarine  
We all live in our yellow submarine…  
_

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**Author's Note- **Can anyone else see Tom in a Hawaiian shirt and swim trunks, lugging a radio? Or is it just me? Summer Vacation is HERE! And does anyone REALLY know what a tam-o'-shanter is? If so could you tell me?

I know I said 'senior staff' in the summary; others will get stuck at random times.

Oh, and sorry for the longer wait. I've been spending the last few days plowing through Star Trek novels- seven in two days! Yahoo!


	4. Ahoy, A Plot! …Sort of…

**Author's Notes- **Wow…that last chapter must have truly stunk… thank you **Aseawen **and **emilychristinad** for sticking with me anyway.

My computer thought it'd be funny to stop 10 keys from working. I, however, didn't think it was _that_ hilarious… they still aren't working again. I was relying on the Symbol option to type, which is why it took _so long_. Rrrrrgghh! Stupid keyboard! I finally emailed it downstairs and hijacked my mom's computer.

Also, if I seem to be rushing, please tell me- I have another crossover in the works and I SO want to start it…it's a TNG and- nope, not gonna tell you…mwha ha ha…

**Chapter Four: Ahoy, A Plot! …Sort of…**

When Harry Kim joined the merry fray, the situation stood thus;

The computer was playing "We All Live In A Yellow Submarine" in the voices of the original singers at randomly varying volumes;

Tom Paris was sitting on a beach chair wearing a bowl over each ear, a garishly colored shirt with no commbadge, and an expression of "not my fault";

B'Elanna was trying to turn three commbadges into a makeshift tricorder with nothing more than natural materials and quite a lot of presumably bad Klingon words that were completely inaudible over a sudden soaring succession of notes;

Neelix was fluttering around twittering anxiously and incessantly about anything and everything that came to mind, including but not limited to Talaxians had sensitive eardrums, and was there no faster way to shut off this infernal noise, and there was no need to snap at him so, and he couldn't believe that the computer had been playing the same music for five minutes, and it was true after all that computers never got bored, and actually the music was beginning to grow on him- and so on.

Harry stood in the archway and blinked hard. _Um, did I miss something?_ he thought, and then said it aloud for good measure.

"Harry!" Tom yelled unnecessarily as the volume dropped abruptly. "Shut off the music! Verbal command inoperative!"

Kim shrugged, shook his head disbelievingly at the sight of his friend with two green bowls over his ears, and tapped a few choice buttons on the keypad installed in the wall. Mercifully, the music ceased, except for Neelix, who was singing along.

"_As we live a life of ease  
Everyone of us has all we need  
Sky of blue and sea of green  
In our yellow submar- _Hey, what happened to the music? I just picked up the words!"

"Shut up, Neelix," B'Elanna said disgustedly, whacking him with a sharp stick she'd been using to jury-rig her commbadge collection.

"I didn't deserve that."

"You sing like a dying _targ_."

"Can I ask what's going on?" Kim asked cautiously, entering the holodeck before anyone could stop him.

"Our computer repairs apparently didn't help the holodeck controls any," the half-Klingon engineer said bad-temperedly. "Great, just great- more stinking biogel to adjust."

"Odd, I could have sworn we fixed the holodeck controls as well," he said helpfully.

"I never did anything about the holodeck! I didn't even know there was something wrong with the holodeck! No one tells me anything!" she ranted.

"Oh yeah," Harry Kim said with a look of dawning comprehension on his face. "Sorry. You were in a really bad temper, so I just fixed it myself and I-I-I guess I forgot to t-t-tell you…Don't look at me like that, it's scary!"

B'Elanna growled furiously and stalked over to the volleyball court, where she sat down abruptly on a volleyball with her head in her hands. So positioned, she proceeded to scream very softly. It sounded almost like a coolant leak; sort of 'aaaaaaaaaaa', and was probably just as dangerous.

"B'Elanna? You okay?" Neelix asked carefully, finally tiring of constantly trying to hold his tam-o'-shanter up and wringing it in his hands instead.

"I'm fine," she sighed. "Ok. Holodeck. Starfleet. You. Talk. Now. What was wrong with the holodeck? Before- you fixed it."

Kim screwed his face up and tried to think back, counting something off on his fingers almost absently. "Um, uh…oh yes! It was inserting elements that didn't belong in the currently running program, such as people, things, sounds-" here he looked oddly at the innocent blue sky- "or even alternate places. Naturally, this was inconvenient-" ('Naturally' interrupted Paris, _sotto voce_.) "…for the crew, but we discovered it was linked to the rest of the computer problems, and actually closely paralleled it." Kim was getting deep into a lecture stride. "Therefore, from the current condition of the holodeck, we can assume that the virus has not been eliminated but merely shifted to a different area of the computer mainframe. Recommendations are as such-"

"Step one, get out of here, step two, fix it." Tom interrupted at full volume.

Kim blinked, slightly thrown. "Well, yes. That was my point."

"Harry, we knew that. We just wanted to know what was wrong with the computer, not a lecture on, well, whatever that was called…"

The ensign reviewed his little speech. "Parallax, I think."

"Parallax!" Tom said with a snap of his fingers, as though he'd just thought of it all by himself. "Now how do we get out of here?"

"Maybe we should all just lounge around in the sun until someone comes to rescue us," Neelix suggested. "Someone will definitely notice if I'm not there for dinner."

"Yeah, and we'll get yelled at," B'Elanna said gloomily.

"Maybe there's some way to play the program through to the end," Tom suggested. "If we reach the end, it'll shut down automatically. Like a video game!"

Blink. "Video game?"

Double take. "Video game?"

Glare. "Video game?"

Tom sighed. "Let me guess. None of you have any idea what a video game is. Right?"

"Right." This in three-part chorus.

Paris smiled winsomely. "PADD games?"

"Oh," went the three-part chorus.

"Unfortunately, we didn't program this to be a game, which means my idea is shot straight into the ground," he shrugged. "Never mind."

"Back to square one," Kim said unhappily. "Wait a second…who the-"

The quartet followed his gaze -stare- and stared too.

Standing ankle-deep in the waves was a person dressed in the cliché-est pirate outfit ever invented (which is _completely_ indescribable- imagine something Jack Sparrow-like, only worse), hands behind his back, staring in their general direction. However, he was profoundly cross-eyed, so it was rather hard to tell.

"Elements that don't belong," Harry said, looking rather pleased with his own diagnostic. Suddenly his face fell. "Unless of course you programmed people into this?"

"We didn't," Tom said. "I told you- pure landscape and props."

"Then I was right." Harry's self-confident look returned.

"Um, hello?" Neelix started cautiously, addressing the hologram.

"Ahoy," it replied in a raspy voice.

"Man, is anything about this guy not a cliché?" Tom asked rhetorically.

"Tom."

"Yeah?"

B'Elanna glared at him. "Of course it's a cliché. This is one of YOURS."

"It is?" He stared at the figure, which had resumed staring off into space because no one was talking to it, for a second before his whole face lit up like a light bulb. "So it is! This is from my pirate program! I tried to write in as many clichés as I could without making it look stupid." He paused for a moment. "I got the clichés," he said reminiscently. "But I think it ended up looking kinda stupid anyway. But that was sorta the point, so it doesn't really matter."

"Ok, Tom, it's your hologram; you talk to it."

He didn't even bother to argue, just stepped a little closer to the decidedly seedy pirate. Its lopsided eyes turned in his direction.

"Ahoy," it repeated.

"Um, 'ahoy'. Tell me, how do we get out of here?"

The hologram stared off into space again.

"AHOY!" Tom shouted to get its attention.

"Ahoy!" it bellowed back. "Get through the maze, ahoy! In a submarine, ahoy!"

"What submarine?" Paris asked and added, "Ahoy," before the pirate hologram could zone out again.

"Ship ahoy!" it replied, and pointed out to sea. Right on cue, an old-fashioned, rather chunky submarine emerged and headed towards them, stopping some way out before it beached itself.

"It's yellow," Neelix commented with a perfectly straight face.

"Um, I still don't understand…ahoy?" Tom addressed the hologram, to no avail. It had gone into sleep mode.

"Stupid thing," muttered B'Elanna, standing up. She brought her volleyball up with her and threw it hard at the pirate's head. What's more, she hit it. Unfortunately, all it did was repeat 'ahoy!' again, and shut back down.

"Computer, discontinue pirate image," Kim tried. To everyone's surprise, it shimmered out, with a last shout of 'ahoy!', which wasn't so surprising.

"Computer, end program," he tried.

No reaction.

"Oh well, it was worth a try. So now what?"

With the sense of the ridiculous that pervades the universe and especially the holodeck, it almost immediately changed locations on its own- to the inside of the very yellow submarine. Not only was it yellow on the outside, it turned out, it was also banana-yellow on the inside, broken only by the blue-green sea outside, a handful of assorted black levers, and the sand clearly visible from the portals- which was yellow anyway, so didn't really need to be mentioned.

Tom laughed delightedly and broke into off-key song, closely followed by Neelix.

_"We all live in a yellow submarine,_

_A yellow submarine, a yellow submarine_

_We all live in a yellow submarine,_

_Yellow submarine, yellow submarine!" _they both yodeled.

"Shut up! Both of you," B'Elanna shouted and lashed out at both of them indiscriminately. They both yelped and leapt away, avoiding her fists but managing to run into various pipes and unidentified components that clung to the ceiling with two loud clunks.

"Ow!"

"Idiots," said Torres with some satisfaction, and let it lie.


	5. A Pointless Little Interlude

**Author's Note: **This chapter suffers from ESS-- that's Extreme Shortage Syndrome…or maybe it's Extreme Stupidness Syndrome…you tell me. It doesn't really matter anyway.

* * *

**Chapter Five: A Pointless Little Interlude**

The mess hall was a scene of absolute chaos. In Neelix's absence around unofficial snack-time (approximately 1530 hours), the crew had been forced to find their own refreshments. As Neelix had neglected to even begin to prepare anything, his pantry had taken a severe raiding. Several crewmembers had even gone so far as to try to fill in the temporarily vacant post of Head Chef, and had put out widely assorted snacks on the countertops.

There was a good deal of very loud arguing, a prodigious clatter and crash as three people got locked in the pots-and-pans cupboard, and even a minor shoving match in progress about which platter went where. Luckily, the three platters in dispute were simple crackers, amateurishly sliced cucumbers, and an unidentifiable Delta Quadrant native food that had probably been identifiable _before_ Ensign Molina had taken a shot at preparing it- none of which were very spillable. If it had been soup--or _leola_-root stew—the galley would have been more of a mess than it already was.

Five minutes later the galley looked like a food fight had taken place. Though one hadn't, there was certainly the possibility.

Captain Janeway stopped short in the open double doors, shocked and borderline furious. She'd been stopped by an ensign stationed in Engineering on her way down to approve Paris's new program. Engineering was baffled by a problem with a minor but essential subsystem. Torres was unreachable by commbadge, as the problem _was_ the communications system. The ensign had been trying to find the chief engineer, but the captain was a brilliant engineer too.

She'd spent a good half-hour up to her elbows in computer parts and a slew of leaking gel-packs, and was feeling a lot more sympathy for B'Elanna and Harry than she had an hour before. Tired and annoyed, she'd forgotten all about the holoprogram and dragged herself up to the mess hall in search of a cup of coffee or maybe three—or four—or maybe an entire pot of _real_ coffee, not Neelix's latest coffee substitute.

"Attention!" she yelled. The entire complement of the mess hall screeched to a stop, many still holding snacks, drinks, or plates. Even the people stuffed in the cupboard stopped clattering around. She shot them all a death glare, and was spitefully pleased to see most of them go over the edge from nervous to 'gulp, we're doomed'.

"This is disgraceful," she continued at her normal volume. She didn't have to shout when she had everyone's full attention. "Every one of you will clean up this room _completely_ and restore Neelix's galley to its original condition. I ought to put each and every one of you on report and assign you to scrubbing conduits for the next week, but I don't think there are that many conduits on board." She scanned the room as if memorizing faces. "If the mess hall is not in pristine condition by the time Neelix returns—wherever he is—I will write up the report after all. Get to it."

She stalked over to the replicator without another word, listening with malicious satisfaction to the immediate hustle behind her.

"Coffee. Hot. Black. Now." She growled at the replicator.

Unfortunately, what materialized was a steaming mug of slightly sparking bio-gel.

**

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**

**Author's Note: **ESS stands for both. Definitely.


	6. Sub Marine Maze

**Chapter Six: Sub Marine Maze**

**Le'letha: **(sees last review date) Ack! So so so so sorry! I got a little distracted getting Sleight of Hand off the ground…and fixing my keyboard…but I still should have kept up with this! Greatly sorry for the writer's block. Please don't have abandoned meeee… (trails off into yowl and sniffs pathetically) Ok. Back on track here. Shape up! (smacks self) Ow.

**

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**

"I should have stayed in bed this morning," B'Elanna mumbled to herself as she watched Tom Paris fool around inside the very, very yellow submarine they were all currently trapped in. "Then I wouldn't be in the middle of this ridiculous mess."

"So now what?" Neelix asked, rubbing a sizeable lump just forming on his head where he'd run full tilt into the ceiling.

"We get through the maze," Paris said happily, settling into the rather uncomfortable-looking black chair closest to the 'steering wheel'. "I'll drive."

"Of course," Harry muttered, not unkindly, ensconced firmly out of the way in a corner. Being very careful not to touch anything, he levered himself to his feet and cautiously made his way towards the front of the somewhat cramped submarine. With that irritating diffidence that screamed, 'I am being tactful,' he leaned over Tom's shoulder. "Do you know where you're driving?"

"Nope! Not a clue! But I didn't program in parameters for too far out to sea—there's only so far people can swim—so we may hit the wall eventually."

"If the holodeck was working right," B'Elanna pointed out waspishly from one of the back seats, which felt just as uncomfortable as the driver's seat looked. "Of course, if it were working right, we wouldn't be in this stupid mess, now would we?"

"Don't look at me, B'Elanna," he shrugged, concentrating on maneuvering the clumsy vehicle round an outcropping of rock. His laudable concentration explained his not-so-laudable and decidedly stupid next comment: "The ship's systems are your problem, not mine. It's not my fault they're all busted up again."

"Shut up!" she yelled, her voice echoing off metal walls. Glancing around bad-temperedly, she tugged a long, dull pole from its mounting on the wall and rapped him over the head with it. Dissatisfied with his yelp of "ow!' she did it again just for good measure.

"Stop it! I'm seeing stars! Ooh, they're pretty stars though," he added, getting a smile from Harry Kim, a snort from Torres, and no reaction from Neelix, who wasn't paying any attention to them. She did put the pole down, but she kept it within arm's reach just in case Tom said something stupid again, a distinct possibility.

Neelix sat quietly by a window, staring out of it with an off-putting intensity.

"See anything out there? Neelix? Neelix? _Voyager_ to Neelix; come in please!"

"Yeah, something… I don't know what. It's gone away now though," he added, and kept staring out the window. "Are those fish?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. Green and silver fishes flickered past endlessly, moving in extremely erratic and increasingly pointless patterns.

"Ewww, why would anyone eat one of those?"

"Says the man who serves _leola_-root twice a week," Kim muttered.

"_Once_ a week!"

"They're usually cooked first, you know," Harry explained. "Although some people do eat raw fish…it's called sushi when it's raw."

"Found it!" Tom called from the front of the sub. "Dead ahead, one maze!"

"That looks intimidating," Harry said very un-intimidating-ly. "I thought it would be a two-dimensional maze, but this has a roof over it."

"Yeah, it would be too easy to cheat otherwise," B'Elanna pointed out.

"Life's a game; cheat," Tom quipped.

"Is that some sort of new Vulcan platitude?"

"Heck no, can you imagine Tuvok saying that?"

"I wish," Kim muttered as Tom maneuvered the sub into the gaping mouth of the cavern ahead.

"There had better be some lights on this thing, or else we're gonna be bumping into a lot of walls," Tom mused aloud. "Someone find a light switch."

Harry poked at a few black buttons idly, displaying the incredibly annoying talent of Starfleet officers to press the correct button at random once more, until one flooded the compartment with external light, illuminating their surroundings.

They were in a proportionally narrow (for their submarine) corridor, about twenty feet wide and about the same tall, although it was profoundly crooked, so it was hard to judge. It was designed with luminescent green walls and ceiling, although the floor was covered in sparkling golden sand. The light from their submarine reflected dizzyingly off all six sides of the lopsided rectangular passage, fragmented by the sand below into a kaleidoscope of glittering lights. The luminescence was only visible for ten feet in any direction; the passage ahead, unlit, loomed ominously.

"So, does anyone have any idea where we're supposed to go?" Paris asked.

"You're the navigator; you tell me," B'Elanna tossed back, still annoyed by the 'ship's systems are your problem' jab.

"How about straight ahead?" Neelix suggested. "Just run the boat through all the walls and we'll get to where we're going a lot faster."

"Um, that's probably not a good idea," Kim suggested softly but firmly. "What if the submarine got damaged? I'm pretty sure that the mortality failsafes have a good chance of being down too."

"Ok, bad idea," Neelix amended, pulling the forgotten tam-o'-shanter out of nowhere and plopping it on his head, burying himself in rough fabric. "Let me know when we get out." And he promptly sat himself down by a porthole, and, to all intents and purposes, went to sleep.

Harry sighed and ignored the Talaxian. "I remember a trick my elementary school teacher taught me," he addressed the rest of the little crew. "If you're walking through a maze—any maze—and keep one hand on the same wall all the way through, eventually you'll get out. It may take a while, but you'll get out."

"I dunno Harry, that might take too long," Paris said dubiously, still toying with the controls.

"Tom, please hold the sub on an even course, you're making me dizzy," Harry scolded him, though the spinning and general foolery did not noticeably abate. "And it'll take longer if we just flounder around. Besides, if we take too long, someone might eventually notice we're missing."

"We can always hope," B'Elanna muttered darkly, but refrained from further comment as the helmsman cautiously followed the ensign's directions; said ensign had his face pressed to the glass of the starboard-side porthole, smudging it disreputably.

"Left.

"Left.

"Keep going.

"Wait! Ok, now turn right.

"Left again."

"Harry, this is boring."

"Yeah, but eventually we'll get somewhere. Now turn right."

"Somewhere" is a vague qualification. They did get somewhere. Unfortunately it wasn't where they wanted to be, and although Harry's plan was a good one, it failed to expect a large open arena set deep into the ground below and rearing far above their heads, with nine different apertures set randomly into the walls and ceiling, guarded by ominous looking submarines in widely varying colors that had no names and had never been seen in any rainbow in its right mind.

"Oh," Harry said.

"Well," B'Elanna said sullenly, "any more ideas?"

**

* * *

**

Tom lounged back in his uncomfortable black driver's seat, missing intensely his nice comfy chair at _Voyager_'s helm, and lazily scrutinized the submarines, which were darting recklessly all around the large room. It was rather like being inside a round fish tank.

"This isn't my problem," he informed the other two, Neelix not listening.

"Nuh uh, it's your turn to think of something," Kim shot back. "I solved the last problem, so now it's your turn."

"Who says?"

"I do!"

"You can't give me orders; you're an ensign!"

"What is it with that today! That's the second time I've had that shoved in my face in the last three hours!"

"Really?" Tom asked, distracted. "What was the first time?"

"I tried to order B'Elanna to take a shower."

"Whyever did you do that?"

"I couldn't tell what was bio-gel puddle and what was B'Elanna," Harry said wryly, to the intense amusement of his friend.

Torres rapped the laughing duo sharply with her handy pole. Clunk, clunk. "Shut up, Starfleet. Both of you shut up. Now how do we get out of here? I'm hungry."

"I guess we should try one of the tunnels," Tom said with a shrug. "Unless anyone's got any better ideas?"

"No, but which one?"

"Let's just choose one at random."

"Or we could wake up Neelix and make him choose. That way, if he guesses wrong, we'll have someone to blame."

"Hey!" Neelix said, 'waking' suddenly. "That's not fair."

"Nothing's fair," B'Elanna told him. "So which tunnel?"

"WHAT? Why is it my choice?"

"Weren't you listening?" Paris teased him.

"Fine, but I get the credit if I'm right."

"And the blame if you're not," the pilot kept at him.

"Hmph." The Talaxian counted the tunnels off, murmuring under his breath, and settled on one that looked no different from any other. "That one."

"Okay, here goes," Tom muttered, and launched their little yellow submarine smoothly into the arena.

The other submarines took one look at them…and attacked!

**

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**

**Le'letha**: I know that's a stupid place to end this. I'm still very sorry about the writer's block. Thank you to everyone who's been reading this, and the last chapter will hopefully be up soon! (At least I think it will be the last.)


	7. Bluuue Meanies!

**Chapter Seven: Bluuue Meanies!**

**Author's Note:** Heh. Heh. Heh. I have just seen the Beatles movie _Yellow Submarine. _Ideas have flown thick and fast (mostly snitched from the movie) so this will not be the last chapter after all. I estimate one more in the works, containing recycled elements like The Glove, levers, clocks, a deserted city, REALLY bad puns, and cameo appearances by "Bluuue Meanies!" and, yes, the Beatles. Those of you who have seen the movie know what I'm talking about. Those of you who haven't will find out.

**Disclaimer:** Last time I looked in the mirror, I was Le'letha. That means that if TPTB sue me for recycling all this stuff, I won't be able to buy the next Rurouni Kenshin book. Spare me. I'm really looking forward to that book.

**ON WITH THE SHOW!**

"Hey!" Tom shouted for the lack of anything better to shout. "Say what?" he added, which wasn't any better.

The four were tossed across the compartment as the other submarines bombarded them with missiles, creating enormous echoing noises that, quite naturally, echoed throughout the yellow submarine.

"Wait a second!" B'Elanna complained, picking herself up and stumbling over to a porthole, stepping on Neelix in the process. "What the heck are they shooting at us?"

"I dunno. They look like apples. Big green apples," Kim said unhelpfully, but correctly.

"They are apples," Tom informed them through a bite of one that had just come sailing through the window. "Sour apples, I might add." He tossed it back out the window at the attacking subs. It flew across the gap, through another window, and clunked one of the inhabitants over the head.

"Is it just me, or does everything go clunk today?" Neelix asked.

"Just you," Tom assured him, sitting back down in the pilot's chair. He spun the steering wheel wildly.

Clunk, clunk, clunk, went the steering wheel as it spun.

"O-kaaaaay," he drawled. "Maybe it's jammed."

"But it's spinning," Kim pointed out. "Ow!" An apple had just flown in the window. "Hey, look, it's blue."

"So it is. Can I eat it?" Neelix asked.

"Get your own," B'Elanna told him, taking the apple straight out of Harry's hand and biting into it.

"Hey! That was mine!"

"You want it back?"

"Not anymore."

"Good." She took aim and flung it at a velocity nearing Mach 2 out of the mysteriously insubstantial porthole, scoring a direct hit on an equally blue submarine, producing a clunk of epic proportions.

"We should shoot back!" Neelix said excitedly. "Where's the weapons console?'

"I don't know, just press a button," Kim said, scrutinizing the banks of buttons, levers, and switches.

"Any button?"

"Sure."

"Ok, how about this one?" the Talaxian prodded a raised round button with a starburst on it. Like everything else, it responded with a clunk and, at first, nothing else.

"Well, that didn't do anything," he said to the accompaniment of green and blue apples pounding the bulkheads, although none flew in through the windows.

"Are you so sure?" B'Elanna said waspishly, pointing at a prodigious stream of blue bubbles that issued from a pipe ascending the wall.

"No." He pressed the same button again, shutting them off, although the bubbles that had already emerged floated around the cabin happily until they popped one by one with a short burst of music each time. It doesn't take much to make a lot of musical bubbles happy.

"Look!" said Paris, sitting at the helm, such as it was.

Just in front of them was a blue submarine, the biggest of the lot. Ripples were emanating from its prow, heading towards them.

Moments later, as the sub shook with the first impact of the waves, a crazy voice started talking.

"We are the Blue Meanies!" it said. "You shall be bluified. Resistance is futile!" it—he? said—then trailed off into hysterical laughter.

"Someone's been taking lessons from the Borg," B'Elanna complained. "And what the heck is bluified? Where's the off switch?" She jiggled three different switches and depressed a button, but all she managed to do was activate whirling colored lights that spun around the submarine's interior.

"I think," Harry said, observing the submarine in front of the carefully, "that the waves traveling through the water are conveying the sound."

"How could they do that?" Neelix asked.

"Maybe they're _radio_ waves," Paris suggested brightly.

Thunderous groans echoed around their ship. "Tom, that's terrible!" Kim informed him with an enormous sigh.

"Sorry. Right, let's get out of here. Hold on!"

"To what?" Neelix asked, glancing at the helmsman nervously.

"Your last meal," Tom replied with a very ominous laugh. "Here we go!"

Tom spun the steering wheel in a circle and let go. It kept spinning wildly, and the sub responded, spraying apples from its hull with centrifugal force. Inside, Harry, B'Elanna, and Neelix clung to railings and seats and tried not to fly into the very hard metal walls.

Still laughing, Paris, who was seat-belted into his chair, leaned heavily on a convenient lever to his right, and the ship shot forward, barreling into the tunnel dead ahead, leaving the Blue Meanie fleet floundering behind them.

It took the Blue Meanies a few seconds to recover; then, with a concerted howl of rage that was audible even through the hulls of submarines and the steadily increasing volume of water between them, set off in full pursuit.

"Tom, stop spinning!" Kim yelled over the squeals, bumps, bangs, and, oddly enough, trumpet blasts of the engine.

"Ok, Harry," he said happily, bringing them back onto an even keel. "Is that better?"

"Yes, much," he replied, relieved.

"Right, which way?" he inquired of his friend, who was trying to stabilize his legs. The poor ensign was weaving in circles as he stumbled forward to join Tom at the driver's seat.

"How should I know?"

"Make something up."

"But—"

"Put it this way, buddy; we can't get any more lost than we already are."

Kim shook his head silently. "All right, turn left here."

"Right."

"No, left!"

"I am turning left!" Paris protested, as he turned left.

"But you said-"

"Forget it, Harry."

"Whatever. Turn left again up ahead."

"No problem," he drawled as they reached a four-way intersection.

"No, wait, turn right!"

"You said I was supposed to turn left!"

"I lied."

"Ok, we'll turn right."

"No. Go left."

"I thought you lied!"

"I lied about that too."

"Huh?"

"Just turn left, Tom."

"That didn't make any sense, Harry."

"It's ok. Don't think about it."

"Aahh!" Neelix screamed suddenly, pulling his head back inside from where he'd stuck it out the mysteriously insubstantial porthole. "There's something coming!"

"Let me see," Torres moved him to one side and looked out herself.

"What the…" she muttered. "You better speed up, flyboy," she called to Paris. "Those 'Blue Meanie' jerks are coming after us, and they don't sound too happy."

"Ok," he said, leaning on the lever again, "but I sure wish we had a map or something."

"How about this one?" Neelix enquired, waving a piece of scruffy-looking paper around like a flag.

"Give me that!" Harry near-shouted, leaping to his side and snatching the paper. "Ha hah! Well done, Neelix! Ok, where are we…" He stood still for a second trying to figure out their location. The Talaxian tried to peer over his shoulder, standing on tiptoe, but gave up and moved to just behind his elbow.

"How about the moving, blinking, yellow dot that says YOU ARE HERE?" he asked.

"Of course!" Harry said, waving it about in the air much like Neelix had been doing not a minute ago. "Turn right just ahead, Tom!"

Three seconds later the submarine skidded to a halt in front of a seemingly blank wall.

"Oh, brilliant directions, Starfleet," B'Elanna said sarcastically. "Are you sure you weren't reading it upside down?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"It says THIS WAY UP in big letters with a nice big black arrow," he said, showing her.

"So…"

"So what?"

"So, let's recap." Tom counted off on his fingers. "We've got a horde of Blue Meanies, whatever they are, right behind us in submarines howling for our blood, we're facing a blank dead end, and a crazy thing that looks like a glove on steroids playing shadow-puppets is emerging from the wall with a smile on a face that shouldn't even exist."

"Yeah, that sounds about right—WHAT?" Kim yelped, looking out the front window.

A blue glove, folded into a fist, with the pointer finger, appropriately, pointing straight at them, laughed by moving it's third and fourth fingers apart. It was a most interesting creature, except it suddenly lofted upwards, folded itself into a tighter fist, and slammed down where the submarine had been a brief moment ago. That, of course, made it slightly less interesting and substantially more annoying than it already was. Luckily for them, Paris was paying attention and had moved them away in the nick of time.

However, he had also cannoned them into the wall.

"Sorry!" he shouted unnecessarily.

"Tom, try to get past it!" Kim cried. "There's a gate of some sort opening!"

"Where?"

"In the wall!"

Harry was right. The seemingly blank wall had changed appearances, and now, two interlaced hands had sprouted. Slowly, pausing to shove the homicidal glove aside irritably, they opened, revealing darkness beyond. Only a lit sign hanging from the ceiling broke the darkness. The sign read EXIT in bright red letters.

"Ok, hold on again!" Paris yelled, and jammed the lever all the way into the wall. The submarine shot forward with a protesting screech, zooming straight through the grasping glove, which caught hold of the first Blue Meanie ship to catch up with the yellow submarine, which had vanished into the now-closed gateway.

**TO BE CONTINUED. SOON.**


	8. Assorted Absurdities Added

**Chapter Eight: Assorted Absurdities Added**

**Disclaimer: **Well, I didn't say I owned Voyager, but my laptop exploded anyway…I own a _Voyager_ figurine and a mini-Enterprise-D! And a blue notebook. I do not own the movie Yellow Submarine. throws party to celebrate

**Author's Note:** To be continued soon, huh? Please don't shoot me. What with computer problems (dumb keyboard!), too many ideas for Sleight of Hand and other stories—including a birthday-fic which was on a_ deadline_—and becoming a freshman (yippidee doo dah…), I've been a little busy. But my keyboard is fixed now! (bows many, many times to Austin and dances in a circle.) Ok, welcome all readers, especially new ones and people who've stuck it out this long and/or have added this to their story alert or favorites lists. (Covers everyone, huh?) I _really_ appreciate you reading this. Anyway…

**ON WITH THE SHOW!**

When the sign had said "Exit", it had apparently only meant 'exit from the maze', not 'exit from the holodeck'.

"That hologram lied to us!" B'Elanna protested, looking out the window as the darkness lifted. "It said the way to end the program was to get out of the maze!"

The holodeck had changed appearances, now becoming a deserted stone city. Shattered rocks that had once constructed walls and streets were scattered everywhere. In direct contrast to the former colorful setting, everything was grey, brown, and black, with the occasional dingy white, except, of course, their submarine, which stayed stubbornly bright neon-banana yellow.

Figures rather.

"So, what now?" Neelix asked, looking out from underneath his tam-o'-shanter.

"Now I hit things with this metal pole," B'Elanna said angrily, and then growled at all of her companions as they pulled cushions off of the seats and placed them over their heads. "That's not funny!" she told them, and whacked the walls instead. Drum-like noises echoed within the enclosed space, deafening the inhabitants.

"Stop it, Maquis," Kim said eventually, stopping the pole with one hand while clinging to his pillow with the other. "Let's think about this, shall we?"

"What's there to think about?" she snapped.

"What to do now?" Tom suggested, removing the cushion from his head now that the storm had died down a little bit.

"Has anyone noticed that no one's noticed that we're gone yet?" Neelix asked. He pulled an old-fashioned analog clock that wasn't there a second ago off the wall and looked at it. "Look! It's dinnertime already! The crew will all starve!"

"Hey, where'd you get that?" Tom demanded. "Let me see." He took it from the Talaxian and examined it. "It can't be dinnertime; look. I don't know what you did to it, but it seems to be running backwards."

"Backwards?" Harry Kim echoed, letting go of B'Elanna's pole. "Give it here." He watched the hands move counter-clockwise for a few seconds before it was snatched quite rudely from under his nose by B'Elanna Torres.

"I'll fix it," she said brusquely.

"Hey, I want it back," Neelix protested, trying to retrieve his find. It made another quick lap around, being grabbed and stolen from hand to hand, before flying quite smoothly out of the apparently now-insubstantial window.

"Is it just me, or is there something really weird about that window?" Tom asked, over Neelix's protest of 'My clock!'

"Well, we don't appear to be underwater anymore, so the point is rather moot," Harry observed.

"Mute."

"What?"

"Mute," Paris corrected patiently. "The point is mute."

"No, it's not! The correct term is 'moot.'"

"It is?"

"Will you two get your heads back in here and help think about what to do next?" Torres demanded irritably.

"It's too bad you took apart the commbadges," Kim said. "We could really use an SOS signal right now."

"They weren't working anyway!" B'Elanna yelled, reaching for her pole again. Unfortunately for her, but luckily for Harry, Neelix had stolen it, and was holding it behind his back, trying and failing to look inconspicuous.

"Give me that!" she yelped, snatching it back from him.

"Cut it out, B'Elanna," Tom said with a sigh, fiddling with the steering wheel, having gotten back into his seat. "Whoa!"

Abruptly, they were all jerked towards the back of the submarine as it accelerated, weaving between the ruined buildings and through the deserted streets without a hitch. The stones blended into a grey-and-white blur, zipping by outside of the portholes.

"What did you do?" Neelix wailed, held upside down against the back wall of the submarine by the acceleration.

"He didn't do anything!" Kim defended his friend.

"Stop!" Paris ordered, banging on the control panel and pulling levers for all he was worth. Somehow he had managed to stay in his chair. The others were not so lucky, and were currently in a heap at the stern. Spurts of odd behavior from the submarine chronicled his continued efforts. "Stop, I say! Stupid thing!"

Although his efforts were all in vain, the runaway submarine finally screeched to a halt, throwing them all towards the front. Once he'd picked himself up, Tom carefully peered out the front window, nursing a cut lip.

"I hate you," he told the submarine, which, if it cared, didn't show it.

"Now where are we?" Kim asked, coming up beside him.

"I have no idea whatsoever."

"That helps, Tom. That really helps."

In direct contrast to the rest of the dingy, dirty, disappointing city all around them, it would seem that one building had remained standing despite it all. And, it seemed, had prospered. Blinking neon lights were mounted on the exterior of the store, disclaiming **_AAA_** to whoever might chance by. Within the building, lights were on, although obscured by pamphlets apparently glued or otherwise adhered to the glass windows that faced the street. A red pay-phone booth stood next to it.

"Ay-ay-ay?" Neelix said skeptically.

"Wasn't that a map company back in the twentieth century?" Tom asked rhetorically, knowing that no one else had a clue. After being duly reminded of this fact for perhaps at least the fifth time today, he proposed an experiment.

"Let's go in there and talk to whoever's inside," he suggested. "I'm getting really sick of this little yellow submarine."

"At the first sign of anyone saying 'ahoy,' I'm out of there," B'Elanna warned as they exited through a door that hadn't been there ten seconds ago.

**

* * *

**

_Ding, dong,_ went the doorbell as they entered.

"Anyone home?" Tom called cautiously, looking around. Apart from the apparently omnipresent, garishly colored brochures and pamphlets on the walls, there were no decorations, and the only furniture was a series of desks in a rough semicircle against the back wall, and an assortment of seriously mismatched chairs that had been scattered to the four winds while remaining miraculously upright.

"Ahoy there!" a cheery voice hailed them from nowhere. Almost instantly, B'Elanna spun about on one heel and was halfway out the door before Harry Kim caught her sleeve and half-dragged her back inside. They were so occupied with their little tug-of-war, neither saw the eight men sneak out of the small red phone booth and creep over to the yellow submarine.

"Hi," a cheerful, fat man in a twentieth-century British policeman's outfit continued, bustling out of the door at the back of the room as Harry firmly closed the door at the front and leaning against it to prevent B'Elanna from leaving. "Who might you be, and how may I help you? I'm Jonathan."

"Are you? Well, you must be wearing the wrong name tag," Harry observed.

"I'm what?"

"Your name tag reads 'Andrew.'"

The man in the police uniform squinted down at the nametag. "Why, so it does. Well spotted, sir! How silly of me." He slapped his forehead softly. I was Jonathan yesterday. I must be Andrew today, then."

"Well—Andrew—we were wondering if you could give us a few directions," Neelix said with a grin. "We're a little lost."

"Where were you going?"

"Uh…" The four from _Voyager_ stared at each other, mouths half-open. Outside, the men continued to swarm all over the yellow submarine.

"You see, we're so lost, we don't even know where we're going," Neelix said cheerfully.

"That's pretty lost," Andrew agreed. "Unfortunately, I don't think I can help you."

"Wait a second," Tom protested. "I thought this was a map company."

Andrew looked askance at him. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, it says Triple A on the front window, doesn't it? I seem to remember a company by the name of Triple A being a map vendor."

"Perhaps, but I believe you must have the wrong _AAA_. I don't know what your _AAA_ stands for-"

"American Automobile Association," Tom muttered.

"-but this is Assorted Absurdities Added. I'm sorry you came to the wrong place—so we won't charge you for the modifications."

"What modifications?" B'Elanna demanded abruptly.

Andrew's eyes flicked involuntarily over their shoulders and out the windows, plastered as they were with pamphlets. The _Voyager_ foursome spun around as one and stared. Outside, the eight men in black ninja suits froze, looking like lizards clinging to walls.

"Hey!" Tom shouted, leading the charge out of the double doors. "What do you think you're…"

His voice faded from Andrew's hearing as the doors swung closed. "Have a nice day," he said to the empty room.

**

* * *

**

"Shoo! Go away!" Neelix yelped, waving his hands as if to swat the men in black like mosquitoes. "Shoo!"

"Cut it out, Neelix," B'Elanna groaned. "I'll do this." She charged the retreating workmen with her metal pole, which she had left leaning against the outer hull, and a Klingon war cry. They scattered like chaff in the wind.

"Much better," she said smugly.

"Right, let's get out of here," Tom said, opening the door and stepping inside. "What the—"

"Whoa!" Harry gasped. "It's huge! This is _so_ much better!"

Where at first the interior of the submarine had been cramped and uniformly black, it was now spacious and all sorts of colors, ranging from dark pastel purple to lime green and beyond. Now, pipes wound everywhere, although there was little to no danger of tripping over any of them. Three extra doors had materialized in random walls, most bracketed by circular portholes. However, one thing was the same. The levers, buttons, and steering wheel had not changed at all.

"Much better," Neelix pronounced as they got underway in a random direction once more. "I approve."

"We're thrilled for you," B'Elanna retorted, leaning absently against one of the newly installed doors."Awk!"

The reason for this undignified squeak was readily apparent. Unlike all the other doors, this one very obviously opened inward—and had not been properly locked.

"AAARGH!" Tom, Neelix, Harry, and Torres screamed. "SINGING PEOPLE!"

Four people in overly colorful and garishly ill-matched suits had burst from the compartment with a burst of music. Dancing over the fallen engineer without stepping on her, they began to gyrate madly around the greatly expanded space, singing all the while.

_One, two, three, four  
Can I have a little more? _

(**Author's Note:** This song drives me nuts. Sorry, person reading this, especially if it drives you nuts too. I'm going to find that movie and _stomp_ on it, I swear…)_  
_

"Back in the closet!" Tom shouted, leaping from his driver's seat and running after them, waving his arms as if to herd them back in.

_Five, six, seven eight nine ten _

_I love you._

The _Voyager_ crewmembers ran all over the submarine chasing the people in bad suits, screaming to block out the addictive, irritating music.

_A, b, c, d  
Can I bring my friend to tea?  
E, f, g h I j _

_I love you._

_Boom, boom boom, _added sound effects from nowhere.

"I can't hear you, I'm not listening," Harry sang counterpoint and off key, hands over his ears.

_Sail the ship_

_boom, boom, boom_

_Jump the tree_

_boom, boom, boom  
Skip the rope, _

_boom, boom, boom_

_Look at me!_

"Silence! Silence! SHUT UP!" B'Elanna added to the din, having picked herself up and found her trusty metal pole.

_All together now...!_

The men in mismatched outfits continued to echo this most recent line as they were herded back into the closet by the three men and Torres. The instant the last passed the threshold, having launched into the next verse. Luckily, the door was slammed hard at that exact moment. A padlock popped into existence and fastened itself onto the doorknob.

"Phew," they all sighed, mostly simultaneously.

"I don't think I have anything to say," Neelix said, obviously lying through his teeth. "There is nothing to say."

"Good idea," Paris agreed. "HEY! Someone's messed with the controls!"

"That would explain why we were moving throughout all that," Harry sighed. "I wonder what this is supposed to be?"

The city was gone. Good thing, too. The dirty white and grey was getting very tedious, although the dash of color in the form of bad suits had hardly been welcome. Instead, visible out the portholes was a landscape that resembled more a coral reef than anything else, although they were demonstratably, by way of sticking a hand and then Neelix's head out of the window, not underwater again. Coral-like formations bloomed in all colors of the rainbow, and then some, reminiscent of Tom's Hawaii shirt. An intimidating number of brightly glittering eyes were just visible within the nooks and crannies of a substantial number of, for lack of a better word, corals.

"Does anyone feel like we're being watched?" Harry asked.

"Or that we're about to get a big surprise?"

"And that we're not going to like it?" B'Elanna followed up on Tom's prediction.

"Or that a whole horde of misshapen rainbow-hued creatures are chasing after us howling for our blood?" Neelix said, sticking his head out of the window again and looking behind them.

"WHERE?"

"Behind us."

Tom jumped back into his seat. "Needless to say, hold on tight," he said with a daredevil grin, giving his companions just enough time to grab hold of pipes before leaning on the gas pedal hard.

The yellow submarine shot ahead unexpectedly, leaving a horde of multi-colored monsters momentarily puzzled. Then, with a roar, they set off after the submarine, charging rather stupidly in its dust.

"There's gotta be phasers or something on this boat," Tom yelled over the noise of the engine.

"You just steer, ok?" Kim stopped him, sitting down next to him. "Let me see…"

"Too slow, Starfleet! Here they come!" B'Elanna yelled, leaning out of the window with her pole. BANG! WHACK!

"One! Two!"

KLONK.

"Three!"

"Ah!" Harry said, having found the projectile weapons by pressing random switches. "Fire at will!"

The creatures were still coming.

Torres squinted hard, trying to see.

"Oi! Flyboy, turn this ship around!"

Tom's startled knee-jerk response almost did. "Say WHAT?" Admittedly, not his most articulate of responses.

"Just turn the darn thing around!"

"Whatever you say," he muttered, and spun the wheel in a circle. The engine sputtered in protest for a few seconds, then charged back into the middle of the crowd of startled monsters.

"Eight, nine, ten," Torres counted as she laid about with her pole like the end of the world, scoring a hit nearly every swing. "Come on, just a little closer…"

SQUELCH.

"**Qapla'!"**

Paris nearly lost his grip on the steering wheel at both the unusual noise and B'Elanna's Klingon victory cry. "What was that?"

"Got it!" she shouted. "Look at that!"

Probably inadvisably, Tom left his post at the helm and came to look, along with Kim and Neelix. A dead indescribable creature was lying on the playground-gravel floor with Torres' pole embedded in its head, which was leaking—computer code?

"It looks like a computer virus," Kim said.

"It is! Now this type of virus fighting I _like!_" B'Elanna said happily.

"Does this mean we can get out of here now?" Neelix said hopefully.

Before anyone could answer, a succession of sounds reverberated throughout the landscape, shaking everything. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, in a rhythm like footsteps. In a matter of seconds, a creature, walking on two legs, striped a horrible shade of electric blue, and with a suction nozzle for a nose and mouth combined, appeared over the horizon. It paused some distance away.

"Uh oh," Neelix said in the momentary silence. "Is it just me, or is this really not a good place to be right now?"

"Ain't just you," Tom assured him, leaping back to his seat. "Come on…" For a frightening second, the engine spluttered uncooperatively, then roared into life just as the Suction Beast inhaled.

Shreds of landscape flew by the yellow submarine's windows as it pulled against the suction. The motor was audibly straining now. Looking back, Kim could see everything in them landscape, being pulled into the monster's mouth. Within seconds the once colorful and varied coral-reef imitation was a barren, empty plain. Not even content with that, the gluttonous creature lowered its mouth to the earth and inhaled. With a ripping sound, the landscape was tugged away into the depths of the Suction Beast, leaving the black-on-yellow-on-grey grid pattern of the ship's holodeck.

"Everyone out!" Kim yelled in a burst of inspiration. Such was the confidence in his voice that everyone instantly obeyed, piling out in a heap.

"Get behind it!" he continued, and they scurried quickly to stand behind the electric-blue creature.

Luckily, the Suction Beast failed to notice them, its attention caught by the odd yellow contraption right before its eyes. With a few more echoing steps, it went a little closer and inhaled. The submarine vanished, to the small regret of four very annoyed people.

The Suction Beast continued to look for something to eat. In a burst of absolute idiocy, it found something.

Its tail.

And, being the stupid creature it was, proceeded to inhale its own tail…then legs…then torso…then, with a popping noise, its own head.

Now, doesn't _that_ take the prize for brainless?

**

* * *

**

That evening, Tom Paris sat in his quarters, a newly replicated ancient videotape in hand. With the computer virus soundly defeated by B'Elanna Torres, the party was a go-ahead, although Captain Janeway had insisted that he review the parameters before opening it to the crew in two days.

With a sigh that took his life in his hands, he leaned forward and inserted the tape, labeled _The Beatles'_ _Yellow Submarine_ into his imitation television. It crackled to life as he pressed the 'play' button on the 'VCR'.

"_Once upon a time…"_ a sonorous voice intoned perfectly seriously—

"_Or maybe twice…"_

**

* * *

**

**Afterword: **Yes, actually, that _is_ how the movie begins. Threw me for a loop for about five seconds. Then I laughed. Again, sorry for the long update wait—I've been very busy! Oh, by the way, Austin, when you get to this, take note: This story is all your fault! And that's not a good thing!

And with that, I need to go finish _Sleight of Hand_: another absolutely insane crossover! What is it? Star Trek: The Next Generation- Yu Yu Hakusho crossover! Really. No kidding. This should be fun… Go click on my profile link if you want to watch the chaos. YYH explanations included for the YYH-impaired. Thanks a lot for reading!


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